Balanced
by Eradicated Illness
Summary: DISCONTINUED
1.

The funeral had been over for hours.  
  
It had been taken place during the early morning gray. The early morning had always been her favorite time of day, when a new day was born and the old one faded into oblivion, when life and death merged into one and danced beneath neither the moon nor the sun. She would rise with the fall of the moon, and dance in the eerie light. And sometimes, I would dance with her. But that was before she wasted away and died.  
  
It was now early evening, and still I knelt by her grave, a grief-shocked silence in the air. Her death was unreal, and I had yet to believe it, even though I had known she would pass for months before she did, the cancer first ripping away her body and then her soul.  
  
The cloudy sky held no hint of sunlight, no silver lining. I remembered a similar day, in which we had sat on the grass, waiting for the rain to come. I had cracked my first joke then. She had noticed there wasn't any silver lining on the clouds and said as much. I told her I'd sue for false advertising. She was the one who taught me how to laugh, oh so long ago. She was the one who taught me how to live.  
  
The low hum of a motor vehicle disrupted the silence. The shattered pieces quickly reassembled themselves as black leather shoes crunched on the gravel of the path and then padded through the should-have-been-bright- green grass. They stopped behind me, just to my right. I ignored them and concentrated on the gravestone, the granite hard and uncaring, cold and lifeless.  
  
"It's time to go, Squall. You can't stay here any longer." The voice didn't register in my mind. I swam through confusion as a hand took my arm and hauled me to my feet. I stared blankly into the person's face before a name rang through my mind: *Irvine*. He led me to a car, presumably his. *Why did he come? Why now?* I hadn't seen the longhaired man in two years, ever since our last battle with Edea. He had simply. disappeared. Nobody had known why or been able to track him. He had left shortly after my seventeenth birthday, and the last I had heard of him was a note confirming his continued existence that came with a present for my eighteenth birthday. The gift remained unopened on my dresser. Rinoa had laughed at my insistence that it stay that way. *Rinoa. Oh God, she's dead..!* I slumped against Irvine and choked out a single sob. He tightened his hold on me to keep me from falling. Helping me into the passenger side of his car, he buckled me in. I used the time it took him to settle into his own seat to regain my composure. *It doesn't matter. I don't care*.  
  
Irvine started the engine and the low purr stung what was left of my heart. She had always liked cars that purred. We drove in an uncomfortable silence. He glanced at me and cleared his throat nervously.  
  
"Like my wheels?" *Wheels?* The simple slang confused my blurred mind, until he continued. "It's a '67 Ford Convertible, smoky gray." He shut up after that for twenty minutes (I watched the clock). Then he took one hand off the wheel and patted my knee. "Everything will be okay." He didn't look at me, and kept his hand where it was. I stared at it in fascination for a while, the brown leather dull in the faint light. Finally, the smoky gray '67 Ford Convertible (as he styled it) stopped and the hand squeezed my knee, before tangling its gloved fingers in the hairs at the nape of my neck and turning my face towards his. He studied my eyes while he spoke. "Are you going to be okay?" I nodded, not really believing it, and looked at our surroundings. We were at my apartment, the one I shared-had shared- with Rinoa. An overwhelming sorrow filled me at the thought of having to face the empty-for it was empty, without Rinoa-apartment, face everything that was her and had been her; from the cherry tomatoes she had lovingly grown on the balcony, to the sheets on their bed that smelled of her sweet and gentle scent. *She's really gone.*. Quickly I clamped down on the grief, and shoved it away. This was life, and I would have to deal with it. *It doesn't matter. I don't care.*  
  
Irvine frowned. The simple movement brought my attention back to him. "Maybe you should come home with me.." He gestured at the apartment. "I don't think you're ready to face that." He stepped on the gas before I could refuse. I watched him shamelessly while he drove. He was still as handsome as ever, with chiseled features and long, ruddy red-brown hair tied back with a purple ribbon. Some things never changed. He still had his trench coat and cowboy hat-the latter was between us in the car for fear of being blown away by the wind. However, dark gray pants and a black turtleneck adorned his thin frame in place of the jeans, tee shirt, and vest.  
  
"I have to warn you, my home isn't exactly a home yet." Irvine licked his lips and continued. "I only just moved in yesterday." He rounded a bend with the spin of the steering wheel and pulled into the parking lot of an apartment building.  
  
"Well," he breathed, "Home Sweet Home."  
  
I sat and stared dumbly at it. The next thing I remembered was walking in the door to his apartment on the top floor. It was well furnished, even though most of the furniture was still wrapped in bubble wrap-it seemed he had done well while he was away. A kitchenette and living area were visible. An open door next to the kitchenette displayed a full bath, and two doors to the right, opposite the kitchenette, were closed. It looked like a home, but Irvine was right, it didn't have the feel of being lived in, like it was out of a magazine clipping.  
  
Irvine settled me onto the leather couch before going to make up the guest bedroom. I stared blankly at his unplugged television while he prepared a meal for us. I didn't know or care what it was. We turned in for the night afterwards. Irvine gave me a pair of old sweats and a tee shirt to wear to bed. I didn't tell him that I usually slept in my favorite pair of Mighty Mouse boxers. He tucked me into the twin bed that night, for all the world like a mother with an overgrown child. He sat on the edge of my bed for a minute, fidgeting with the sheets, his purple silk pajama bottoms rustling softly.  
  
"Why?" I asked suddenly, unaware that the word was leaving my mouth until I had said it.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Why did you go? Why did you come back?" I choked on the questions and my voice cracked, nearly making them unintelligible, but continued, "Why did you leave me?" I had meant to say 'us' but somehow the word got lost in the void of my emotions.  
  
He watched me uneasily before turning his gaze away.  
  
"To answer the second question first: I was worried about you. I didn't know how you would handle. her death. The first and third questions are harder to answer, on a mental level I suppose, but I'll try my best. I'm not sure about why I went myself. I think... I couldn't stand to see the two of you together. Gods, all I ever wanted was for you to be happy." He smiled sadly at me. "But, being a selfish bastard, I wanted you to be happy with me. I love you, I've always loved you, and I think I shall continue to love you even though you will never feel the same about me." He got up. "I think it is time for sleep now, Squall." With that, he turned off the lights and retreated to his own room, leaving me in a groggy stunned silence.  
  
*The hell...*  
  
  
  
(hey, how do you like it? I, personally, think it's pretty good, considering I've only watched my friend (Kage no Kokoro) play FF8 for an hour and a half! Can somebody tell me the color of Irvine's eye? And Squall's? by the way, this started out as a Squall/Irvine fic, but I think it's going to be one-sided now, either that or super long so Squall can get over Rinoa's death and the guilt of supposedly betraying her memory, sigh, RxR please!) 


	2. 

I tensed when I woke up. The unusual surroundings alarmed me to great extent. The first thing that came to my mind was that I had been captured by the enemy. I grabbed for my Gunblade before realizing it wasn't there. Frantically I took stock of my surroundings.  
  
The room was elegantly furnished with a modern European style. Blue curtains on an un-barred window confused me just as much as the light wooden door that was open a crack. I was in bed. In a strange bed. Alone. Who knew how long I had been alone, or if I had company during the night? I searched myself for any fragment of clothing. I found dark grey sweats and a tee shirt. That combined with the lack of certain smells in the air proved I hadn't been taken advantage of. And that I hadn't betrayed Rinoa.  
  
*Rinoa! Where is she?!* I leapt out of bed and charged out of the room, bowling over anything that was in my way in my search for Rinoa. *What if something's happened to her? It's all my fault!* I ran into a kitchen, my bare feet pattering swiftly across the tile, and stopped short. Irvine stood in front of a stove, scrambling eggs. He froze at my entrance.  
  
"Squa-" I cut him off by grabbing his arm (the one with the spatula), twisting it behind his back, and putting the frying pan to his throat. Not close enough to burn, but close enough to feel the potentially dangerous heat. He gulped, not daring to do anything with his free hand.  
  
"Where's Rinoa!?" I shouted, "Why am I here!? Where did you come from!? I won't let you hurt me!" His jaw dropped in shock. I pressed the pan closer, the eggs still sizzling, and his eyes nervously skittered down to it and back to mine. He gulped again.  
  
"Squall," he said, his voice shaky, "What are you doing?"  
  
I blinked. I blinked again. I released Irvine, put the frying pan down- the eggs ruined-and let my arms fall to my side. I blinked twice trying to make sense of everything. My memory evaded me.  
  
"What do you mean? Why did you come back? Where's Rinoa?" My innocent questions seemed to bother him a great deal.  
  
"Squall, don't you remember?" Worry filled his purple (A/N: are they purple? Well I'm going to assume they are) eyes and he took one step towards me. I stepped back, away from him.  
  
"I'm not home. Where am I? Where's Rinoa?" I blinked. Again. Maybe I'll tape my eyelids open. Or closed.  
  
Irvine advanced farther on me. "Do you not remember?"  
  
I continued to step away from him, until my back was against a wall (painted a luxurious maroon with cream trimming) and pressed my hands against it, searching subconsciously for a lifeline.  
  
"I-I-remember-you left! You left me! You left all of us! Where's Rinoa? What have you done with her?"  
  
A stunned silence ensued. Irvine looked at me sharply, before placing his hands against the wall on either side of me, just above my shoulders, and using his height to lean over me. In order to keep his gaze I was forced to look up to him, tilting my chin. Our faces were just inches apart.  
  
"Squall, Rinoa's dead." Disbelief shook my slight frame. *She can't be. No! I won't believe it!* I surged up at him from my sunken position, but he wrapped one arm around my shoulders, trapping my arms, bent down and wrapped one around my legs. He carried me into his living room, all while I kicked, screamed, threatened, sobbed, threw all manner of obscenities at him, and finally whimpered. He sat on his leather couch (having spent ten minutes containing me and getting me there) with me in his lap. I wrapped both my arms around his neck tightly and buried my face in his neck. He cautiously released me and settled his arms around my waist in a more comfortable position. We stayed like that for a long time. Finally, I mustered the courage to lift my face off the silky pale skin of his throat enough to say the words.  
  
"Rinoa's dead." I blinked slowly, my eyelashes fluttering against his throat.  
  
"Yes," he whispered. His grip on me tightened, as if he expected me to take a flying leap out the nearest window.  
  
"She's really gone." I curled my fingers through the velvety strands of his long hair, clutching at them gently, yet fiercely.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Forever. . ." I pressed my face against his throat again, as a single tear trailed down my cheek to hang despairingly from my chin.  
  
"Yes." Neither of us believed in Heaven or Hell. We had seen too much to even dare hope for such things to exist. *She's gone. . . forever. . .* A second tear joined the first, and, combined, they dripped off my chin to soak into his soft cotton shirt. I clenched a handful of the deep blue fabric in one hand. I pressed against him, trying to close as much space between us as possible. Somewhere, in the back of my grief-stricken mind, I vaguely thought that if we shared space, perhaps we would share pain as well, and mine would be lessened, making it more bearable.  
  
I wasn't totally wrong. I took great comfort from him, from his warmth, from his compassion, even if I didn't hurt less. Irvine stroked my hair and rubbed my back, all the while keeping his hold on me. I got the feeling he didn't want to let go. I didn't want to let go either. With my eyes closed and my body pressed tightly against Irvine's, I felt somewhat safe from outside forces.  
  
The traces of tears on my cheek dried, leaving a slight crust of salt behind. I sniffled. Twice.  
  
Irvine stopped stroking my hair. Slender fingers found my chin and lifted it upwards, so he could gaze into my eyes.  
  
"You should eat something." The vibrations of his voice rumbled against my face.  
  
"Not hungry. . ." I mumbled, nuzzling his tender throat like a kitten.  
  
"You should anyway; I'm willing to bet you didn't eat anything yesterday either." He slowly started to push me away from him, to separate us. I clung tighter and refused to be moved. His hands went behind his head and caught my wrists, untangling my fingers from his hair and shirt. "Shh, Kitten, it's alright." Whether it was alright or not didn't matter. I needed to be treated delicately. He caught me under my arms and lifted me off of him onto the couch. He got up despite my attempts to keep him down. I reached for him, but he retreated across the room. Much to my relief he returned with a blanket. Stretching me out, he spread the blanket over me. He held a finger to my lips, shushing me, when I cried out in distress. He was leaving me. Again.  
  
"Shh, Kitten, stay here until I come back with something for you. I won't be long." I nodded, somewhat fearful of being left alone with my thoughts. I hated to think; when I thought a lot, I got angsty. When I got angsty, I got depressed. And when I got depressed, I got suicidal. And when I got suicidal, I tended to try and kill myself. Irvine disappeared into the kitchen.  
  
Some rattling came from the room he had just entered, and what sounded like a refrigerator opening and closing. I focused on those sounds, keeping my attention on what Irvine was doing, even though I couldn't see him through the swinging door. I tried to avoid my thoughts, but to no avail.  
  
*She's gone forever now. Forever and ever. I'll never see her again! She was my everything. And now I don't have anything left, not even Good-For- Nothing-Irvine WHO LEFT ME!!! And now, now everything's gone, and I don't want. . . STOP IT! Stop it! It doesn't matter! I don't care!*  
  
I covered my head with the blanket, subconsciously trying to smother myself. A few more tears leaked out of my eyes. *It doesn't matter. I don't care.* I quickly wiped them away. I curled into a ball under the blanket, my knees against my chest, trying to make myself as small as possible. I scrunched the blanket around me, giving myself the appearance of a lumpy bundle. I didn't feel safe in my little cocoon. I wanted Irvine back. I regretted calling him good-for-nothing in my thoughts. I shut my eyes tight and squashed the guilty feelings rising in my chest. "It doesn't matter. I don't care." The mantra smothered the feelings but they didn't go away. "It doesn't matter. I don't care." I whispered again, fighting off the waves of grief and guilt.  
  
"What doesn't matter, Kitten?" Two purple eyes peered at me. One of Irvine's fingers had lifted a small section of the blanket off the couch, just enough for him to peek through. I tugged it down, surrounded completely by my cocoon again. I very suddenly wished I were dead. The feeling disappeared after a few seconds and I opened my eyes.  
  
"Kitten? Do you want to come out? I have a sandwich for you." Irvine used his soft, smooth voice; the one usually reserved for small children. I sniffled. Twice.  
  
"What kind is it?" I called out from the confines of the blanket.  
  
"Ham and cheese, with only a slight bit of mustard, yellow, not brown. Just the way you like it."  
  
His answer struck me as strange. True, it was my favorite, but how had he known? I had only recently acquired my taste for ham and cheese, having before preferred turkey. Since he had left, the only contact we had had been the present-which was still on my dresser, unopened-and the note confirming his continued existence.  
  
I pulled the blanket off of my head and sat up. Irvine knelt beside me and cupped one of my cheeks in his hand. He ran his thumb under my eye, wiping away the minute traces of tears. Concern laced his features as plain as daylight.  
  
"Squall, you want to eat now?" Concern dripped off his tongue with each word. *He's worried about me. . .* I struggled to look brave for him and took the sandwich off the plate in his hand.  
  
"Um, sure." I ate it slowly. He watched my every bite. It tasted just like the ones Rinoa used to make. *Rinoa. . .* Another wave of depression hit me. *It doesn't matter. I don't care.* The icy mantra sunk into my bones as I repeated it mentally. The mantra made me forget. It made me forget her death. It made me forget Irvine. It made me forget the sandwich in my hand and in my mouth. It made me forget I was alive. I sank into forgetful oblivion and settled there for a long sleep.  
  
~`~  
  
hi hi everybody! Neato ne? I luv it! This is one of the best fanfic's I've ever written I think Don't you think so? Haha! I am victorious! Please please tell me what you think! I live off of feedback and if I don't get some soon I will die of starvation! Thanks! 


	3. 

Yay! Third chapter! How long should it take for Squall to fall out of love with Rinoa? Should he even fall in love with Irvine? Or should it be a suicide fic?! I dunno, but with Squall and everything. . . Please tell me what you think should happen, because I have no desire to make this TOO terribly long. It isn't an epic after all and I should really be focusing on my original crap. *Sigh* check out my web site for information on the HHIP day (Holding Hands In Public, Gay/Bisexual/.Lesbian/Transgendered Tolerance, Saturate the world. . .)  
  
LIME ALERT!!!!!! =^-^=  
  
On with the fic!  
  
~`~  
  
My eyes opened for the first time in who knows how long. The first thing I saw was a very white ceiling, then warm yellow walls, and blue curtains on an open window. A breeze stirred the curtains very slightly.  
  
I wasn't dressed in much, just a pair of boxers, but I didn't care. I threw the blankets off and put my feet on the ground. I stood up, stumbled, and fell back on the bed. Persistent, I stood up again. My knees wobbled, but didn't collapse. I took one shaky step, and then another, and another. I tottered out the door and stumbled again. Vainly trying not to fall, I yelped and grabbed at a lamp. It crashed to the floor with me, shattering into a million pieces. Feeling slightly guilty over the broken lighting fixture, I propped myself up on my elbows, as someone came running into the room through an adjacent door.  
  
It was Irvine.  
  
"Squall!" He swept me up into his arms and hugged me tight. Before I knew it, his lips were pressed to mine and ecstasy was running through my veins. He swirled around with me in his arms and finally tripped over an arm of his couch, falling on top of me onto the soft cushions. He broke off the kiss, realized he had kissed me, and tried to back off, muttering apologies, but I pulled him back down and captured his lips in another earth-shattering embrace.  
  
I smiled up at him when I let him go, and twirled a wisp of his hair that had come loose around my finger. He was shocked. Plainly and purely, shocked.  
  
Stunned.  
  
Paralyzed.  
  
Et cetera.  
  
I grinned and put my lips to his again, quickly. That seemed to bring him out of it.  
  
"Sq-Squall?" His purple eyes were stretched wide and his jaw was slightly open of its own will.  
  
"Shh," I said, closing my eyes, "Less talking, more kissing." I lifted my head back up to his but he leaned backwards as well, putting distance between us. I opened my eyes and frowned. He looked sorely confused (as well as severely turned on) and a faint blush was glowing on his pale cheeks. "Irvine? I thought-I thought-you said you loved me. I remember. . . You said. . ."  
  
He got off of me and lifted me off the couch. He brought me into a different room, one that also held a bed and a wardrobe. I assumed it was his room. He sat me on his bed.  
  
"I do love you, Squall," he said, shaking his head, "But you don't love me. This isn't right."  
  
"But-" *BUT I DO LOVE YOU!!!* my mind screamed. I had always loved him, all throughout our battles. I had loved him and. . . someone else. . . but I couldn't remember. I had loved him, I still love him, and now was the chance I had, for he loved me as well. Something was holding him back.  
  
"Shh, Kitten." He moved from my side and started rummaging through his wardrobe. He tossed a pair of jeans and a fuzzy gray turtleneck onto the bed along with a leather belt with little steel studs set into it. "Put these on, Kitten, can't have you running around half-naked. The neighbors might see." Reluctantly I pulled on the clothing while he looked for a pair of socks. When I had the clothes on properly he handed me a pair of heavy gray woolen socks and I slipped them over my feet. I stood, and frowned at the pants. The legs were way too long. They completely hid my feet. I sat back down and rolled them up until they nearly touched the floor and I could see my sock-covered toes.  
  
Irvine looked me up and down and smiled. "You look adorable."  
  
*I do not look adorable!* I looked in the full-length mirror he had against his wall and sweatdropped. (A/N: look! ( V0/_0W it's Squall! Heehee ~^-^~) *I look adorable.* The clothes that looked so masculine on Irvine, looked adorable on me. I looked like a pansy. I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair, sorting out a few tangles and fluffing it a bit. I only made myself look cuter. Irvine chuckled and I glared at him.  
  
"You're a lot happier." He said.  
  
"What do you mean?" I was startled. It wasn't like I had been severely depressed before or anything. I've always been a little angsty, but that was just part of my personality.  
  
"What do you mean 'what do you mean?' You were nearly considering suicide when you passed out."  
  
That startled me even more.  
  
"I passed out? When?"  
  
"About a week ago. You don't remember?" He took my face in both of his hands, forcing my head up at a semi-awkward angle, and studied my eyes. I tried to shake my head and failed, but he got the gist anyway. "You were eating a sandwich and you just. . . stopped. Like, stopped living. It was scary, frightening; I thought you had died." His voice died slowly away, until he stopped talking altogether. He released my face and let his hands fall around my waist. He tilted his head and pressed his forehead against mine. "I was so scared. . ." He hugged me tight, burying his face in my hair, trying to hold back sobs.  
  
Confused, I stood there, waiting for something to happen.  
  
"I was so-so scared. . ." I tentatively put my arms around his waist, looking to comfort him. My grip tightened and my eyes widened when I felt something unexpected on my neck.  
  
Irvine's lips.  
  
He took a firmer hold on me and backed me into a wall. I clutched his hips as his hot lips kissed my neck. He choked back sobs and pressed me against the wall. He left a trail of sticky wet kisses over my throat and cheek, before capturing my pink lips in his own with needy, wanting kisses, kisses that held so much emotion that I was nearly overwhelmed by it all. I tilted my head slightly to give him easier access and slung my arms around his neck.  
  
He gave my lower lip a tentative lick, and I opened my mouth, allowing our tongues to spar, before withdrawing and allowing him to explore my mouth. He shuddered in pleasure.  
  
His left hand dug into the waistband of my jeans and boxers, curving around my hip, and his right slipped underneath the fuzzy gray turtleneck to curl around my waist. The hand on my waist rubbed up and down, and tickled my stomach with feather-light touches, causing the soft skin to twitch and shivers to be sent up my spine in delight.  
  
His mouth left mine, and trailed to my ear. He nibbled it a little bit, breathing heavily. His hands fell still (though they stayed where they were) and he leaned against me. I enjoyed his close warmth and husky breath on my ear.  
  
His thumb glided over my stomach in small arcs in idle movement. I sucked in my breath in reaction to it.  
  
Taking him by surprise, I pushed off of the wall, hurtling us both onto his bed. Straddling him at the hips, I reared up and peeled the turtleneck off and flung it into a corner. I started to fall down upon him, planning on smothering him with love, when he caught my bare waist in his hands, holding me up.  
  
"Squall. . ." His whisper was hoarse, and full of the need for love battling the want to do right.  
  
"Irvine. . ." My whisper is equally hoarse, but full of only the need and nothing else but love for him.  
  
"You don't want this." The break in our passion seemed to have cleared his mind. He was still under the illusion that I didn't love him.  
  
I reached one hand toward him and held his cheek with it, smoothing the skin under his eye with it. I didn't need to speak the words for him to understand that what he thought wasn't true.  
  
I smiled softly, caressing his face. He swallowed, suddenly nervous in the realization that all his fantasies could come true. But then he frowned.  
  
"What about Rinoa?" His voice choked and squeaked on the words.  
  
I blinked. "Irvine, who's Rinoa?"  
  
~`~  
  
yay!  
  
I like it  
  
It's probably the best lime I've ever written, which probably means I'm a sucky lime writer.  
  
O well, that's how the world works and you all have to suffer through it.  
  
Expect the fourth chapter soon, it's going to be short me thinks, but this long one makes up for it right? Please don't kill me!  
  
Reviews are always welcome!  
  
And Thank You to all the Wonderful Reviewers who Reviewed me last time! Arigato! 


	4. 

Laguna looked up the clock for the fifth time that minute, and once again had to marvel at how long a minute lasted.  
  
"Why bother looking at the clock? He's been gone for five days," Kiros said; he couldn't really see Laguna since he was reading the paper, but the man fidgeted so much when he was nervous it was impossible not to notice.  
  
"Yeah, but he's calling back at intervals of two hours, decreasing by fifteen minutes for every day he doesn't show up," Ward said from across the room.  
  
Kiros shook his head and sighed. Putting down his paper reluctantly, he stood and dragged Laguna from where he was sitting.  
  
"Come on, we're going over there," he said, pulling a resistant behind him.  
  
"B-but, I promised I wouldn't interfere with his life! I mean, he's old enough to take care of himself, and I don't wanna get in his way-"  
  
Kiros sighed; he didn't know what part of that to advise Laguna on first. He gestured to Ward, and in understanding he walked over and took Laguna's other arm.  
  
"Hey!!" Laguna shouted as he nearly tripped from Ward's force pulling him out the door.  
  
"Listen, there's a fine line between giving your son freedom and making sure he's safe and you crossed it about two days ago," Kiros said, walking beside Laguna as he stumbled helplessly along.  
  
"Okay, fine! Just let go of me, I'll walk on my own! Sheesh!" Laguna said as he brushed himself off.  
  
"Honestly, what would you do without us?" Kiros said, shaking his head.  
  
"Oh, come on guys, I'm not that bad," Laguna said. He noticed that the others didn't reply, just looked straight ahead. He stopped and blinked. "..Am I?"  
  
  
  
A half hour later they were in the building where Squall's apartment was. In the lobby, they found one of Squall's friends, Fujin, about to go on the elevator.  
  
"Hey, Fujin, wait up!" Laguna shouted as he broke into a mad dash to the elevator, with his comrades behind him; Kiros in a silent run, and Ward in a thundering jog that made vibrations in the earth. Fujin, used to seeing things like this, calmly held down the 'door open' button as they boarded.  
  
"So why are you here?" Laguna asked, hoping to get a clue on Squall's disappearance.  
  
"MISSING." Fujin said, indicating Squall's floor on the elevator board.  
  
"So you haven't seem him either?" Laguna asked worriedly. Fujin shook her head.  
  
"FRIENDS WORRIED."  
  
"Yeah, me too," Laguna replied. At this moment the elevator door opened and they all stepped out. Making there way down the hallway, Laguna walked in the lead with his eyes glued to the room numbers. Finally he came to an abrupt stop in front of one of the doors. He didn't move for a while.  
  
"What are you waiting for?" Kiros asked him.  
  
"Well, what if-?" He was cut off by a kick to his shin. "Ow!"  
  
"KNOCK." Fujin commanded.  
  
After rubbing the injured leg for a moment, Laguna did so with the utmost caution. They waited for a while; no voice came, no footsteps. nothing at all.  
  
"Maybe he went out for a while. Let's try back la- OW! Fujin!!" Laguna said as she kicked him again.  
  
"OPEN." She said, indicating the door.  
  
"Are you kidding??!! It's his apartment for crying out loud!" Laguna said, taking a step back to avoid being kicked again.  
  
"FINE." Fujin replied, and pushed him further out of the way to open the door.  
  
"SQUALL?" she asked as she slowly made her way inside.  
  
Reluctantly, Laguna followed, trailed by Kiros and Ward. He looked around, scratching his head.  
  
"See? He's probably out now, he'll be home soon," Laguna said quietly, hardly believing it himself.  
  
"No," Fujin answered softly. All three looked up abruptly as they notice Fujin's speech change. She was staring at something on a coffee table.  
  
"W-what is it?" Laguna asked; he'd never heard Fujin talk normally. Usually she only did so when she absolutely had to.  
  
"The apartment hasn't even been disturbed for the past week. When. when Rinoa died," Fujin replied with a little difficulty.  
  
All was silent for a while, each person contemplating what could've happened.  
  
"May I suggest," Kiros said after a while, clearing his throat. "We all go home and get some rest. Tomorrow is Saturday; we can all discuss things then."  
  
"I'll call the others," Fujin replied, and left the room. Ward followed, and Kiros started too, but noticed Laguna lagging behind.  
  
"Come on, Laguna," he said, gently. "He's probably fine."  
  
"I sure hope so," Laguna said, at last turning and leaving the room.  
  
~`~  
  
hi!  
  
This chapter was written by my great friend Silent Beatnik, check out her stuff on FFN!  
  
She's awesome! Especially since she's letting me write some Toya/Yuki lime for her newsies version of romeo and Juliet with the ccs gang as characters  
  
Sigh isn't she great?  
  
Yay!  
  
Well ja 


End file.
